Saturday, February 10, 2018

a pause

The cold snap persists. We're happy with the snow, but less eager to sprint to the ski trails. We need a day's pause.

The chickens -- well, they don't know what to think and who to believe. They were fooled by sunshine this morning and they traipsed (oh so slowly) to the garage in search of company (and interesting food). Once there, they could not muster up the interest to head back. I had to coax. And coax. And coax.

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Breakfast -- in the sun room, though the presence of sunlight is a little tentative today.

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I had invited Snowdrop for a farmhouse visit over the midday hours today. The young family can use the time and I can only benefit from the little girl's voluminous grins.

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(So much imagination in every minute of play!)

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Since she is with me at noon, I suggest that she and I go out to lunch. Oh, nothing extraordinary, except that for me it really is special because she and I rarely eat lunch together. We go to a place I do associate with her -- the Madison Sourdough Bakery and Cafe, where I routinely pick up croissants for the girl and cookies for Ed.  It's a thirteen minute drive from the farmhouse, but I think of it as my neighborhood place. I know them, they know me. It's a comfort zone.

You'll recognize perhaps the walk from the parking lot to the Bakery entrance. Past these beautifully photogenic murals.

(Why is she not wearing a jacket? It's 15F (-10C) outside. Go ahead, ask her.
I'm not cold!)

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Snowdrop is on a scrambled eggs kick and we start with that.

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But she is unquestionably excited by the dessert: a macaron, dipped in chocolate for a special Valentine's Day treat.

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On our way out I distract her long enough to slip on her jacket.
Snowdrop, you are not dressed for a side step into deep snow!

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Her babe does flips...

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Her grandma urges them to get in the car! (No cap, no gloves...)

The girl is back home now and I'm settling into a comfortable reclining position, book in hand, next to an Ed who is watching a documentary on his laptop about peasant revolts in the 14th century.

It's predictable, all of it, isn't it? You would think so, except that to me, it's all such a surprise. As if it could have gone that way and yet, here we are, moving forward, healthy, happy, hopeful.